


violent disposition.

by sesquipedalia



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Self-Denial, Self-Discovery, Shotgunning, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sesquipedalia/pseuds/sesquipedalia
Summary: Everyone knows how difficult it can be to stop a bad habit. What’s even more difficult, though, is the feeling you get when you know it’s wrong, yet you keep crawling back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=881g2CY6UVs) I [description](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QsYVJ1y1pw)
> 
> This was written back in January, but I decided to revise it and repost it. Thank you for giving this story a chance in advance!
> 
> X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _'Cause me plus you_  
>  _Equals everything we shouldn't do_  
>  _But you plus me_  
>  _Equals everything I wanna be"_  
> 

**_160614_ ** **_→ 21:57_ **

 

To say the least, Taehyung hates his job, and if someone were to tell the ambitious teenager he once was that he would be working at a shitty cafe in the middle of Seoul for a living, he would’ve laughed in their face.

 

When he was younger, he had dreams of becoming a pediatrician - had plans of attending one of the top universities in all of South Korea, but life tends not to work in anyone’s favor. In fact, it hardly ever does, and Taehyung has learned that the hard way over his long and strenuous 22 years of living.  

 

By now, his life is a complete joke, and he isn’t really laughing.

 

Well, sometimes he does laugh, but it’s always one of those _I’m screwed either way so fuck it_ laughs or _I’m laughing but I’m actually dead on the inside_ , you know?

 

And truth be told, Taehyung is tired, but it’s not the kind of tired that sleep can fix; it’s this constant discontent with everything - his shitty job and his shitty paycheck that all but pays off his and Jimin’s shitty apartment.

He just wishes that he could go back in time and change all that went wrong.

 

Perhaps he would’ve worked harder or made his future his first priority instead of the people around him. Better yet, he would’ve listened to his older brother, Seokjin, when he told him that everything you do in your senior year actually _does_ matter, even if it all seems like bullshit in the moment.

 

Taehyung supposes that’s why Seokjin’s life is drastically different from his. He’s got his own loft on the other side of town, a _fiancee_ that actually puts up with him, and a good paying job as a doctor. Yet Taehyung is stuck making Americanos for the idiots who are willing to pay eight thousand won for a cup of coffee. How is that fair?

 

He hates to admit it, but Seokjin symbolizes everything he wanted to be and couldn’t be, and it hurts to see how well off he is now. He should be happy for his brother, but he can’t help but feel envious of him, sometimes.

 

Taehyung stares at the clock from behind the counter, his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he watches the hand tick with each second that passes by, counting down how much time he has left before he can leave.

 

“Ready to go, huh?” a voice asks from beside him, and Taehyung turns to see Mark, his co-worker, leaning his elbows on the counter. He nods, sighing. “Yeah, me too. Got a 12 page paper due at 11:59.”

 

“Aren’t you an engineering major?”  


“Yeah, but I’m minoring in anthropology. I’ll probably regret it later on, but it’s interesting, even if it’s a lot of work.”

 

Taehyung hums noncommittally.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t like Mark. He actually thinks he’s a pretty nice guy, but he doesn’t really want to be reminded of how much better everyone else’s life is compared to his right now.

 

When the clock finally hits 10:00 PM, he sighs in relief, practically scurrying over to the back room to grab his things and clock out, even though he isn’t rushing for anything in particular.

 

He just wants to go home.

 

“And just where do you think you’re going, Kim?” his boss calls before he can even reach the door, and Taehyung stops in his tracks, his shoulders hunching over with annoyance. Nonetheless, he still turns around to face his boss, giving him what seems like the most desperate smile Taehyung could possibly muster up.

 

“Home?” Taehyung responds hopefully, praying that his boss would refrain from questioning him for his own sake, but he raises a brow at Taehyung, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“You’re supposed to stay until closing today.”

 

“But it’s Wednesday. I never stay until closing on Wednesdays.”

 

“That was before you asked me for extra hours. You said you needed the money, right? So how the hell do you expect to get it if you don’t work for it, huh? You think I just throw money around for lousy employees who hardly deserve it?”

 

Taehyung frowns. His boss could be pretty insolent when he wanted to be, even for a man his size.

 

In reality, Taehyung shouldn’t let his boss push him around if he’s nearly 6 inches closer to the ground than he is, but he takes it anyway because he needs the money. He’d be out on the streets if it weren’t for this job.

 

“No, hyung.”

 

“Then get back to work and start cleaning up. You’re not leaving until this place is spotless.”

 

Taehyung doesn’t argue with him; he never does because he’s too afraid that he’ll lose his job. Instead, he swallows his anger and the small amount of pride that he has left before he starts cleaning up as his boss told him to, sweeping every inch of the cafe and wiping off the tables.

 

He gets the job done in under an hour with the help of two other employees, and by a quarter to eleven, he’s out of the door, not even bothering to change out of his work clothes as he rushes home.

 

Granted, he probably looks rather stupid in his T-shirt and matching cap with the company’s logo, but he doesn’t seem to care, too exhausted to concern himself with something as futile as his clothes. He’s going to take them off once he gets home, anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.

 

On most nights, Taehyung would catch the subway on his way home after work, but with the summer quickly approaching, the weather has become considerably welcoming, even at such a late hour, so he settled on walking instead.

 

It wouldn’t take very long for him to reach his apartment, as he usually took a few back streets instead of walking along the busy main roads, knowing that it would take twice as long with the amount of people that walked the streets every hour of the day. Not only that, but he enjoyed the silence that came with taking the side streets.

 

With no one around and the sound of noisy streets not being constant in his ears, Taehyung could finally sort his thoughts out and have some time to himself, something that he always seemed to need after spending an entire day surrounded by people he didn’t know or didn’t feel comfortable around. Sometimes he just needed to be alone, and that’s why he always insisted on avoiding the overbearing pedestrians and the traffic infested streets, opting for the less crowded and more secluded ones.

 

For a while, he thought that he had finally found his quiet place, one that he been in desperate need for, but as he walks home, he swears he hears the sound of a few people shouting in the near distance, and he almost groans in frustration. Is he not allowed to have nice things for once?

 

Even though he glances around and sees no one in sight, the voices continue to get louder and closer. For good measure, he looks behind him as well, but no one’s there either. After looking one last time, Taehyung shrugs, but once he turns around, he runs into something, or _someone_ , and that _someone_ grabs him and pulls him into one of the dark alleys, shoving him up against the cold bricks of a building.

 

Taehyung hardly has time to scream before the person is covering his mouth with their hand, and his eyes blow wide in fear, his knees wobbling as he panics from the inside out. The shouts continue, and Taehyung almost attempts to yell for help, but the person stops him before he can, pressing a finger to their lips as if to tell him to be quiet.

 

He obeys, even though his subconscious is screaming at him to kick the person between their legs and run as far as he can. But strangely enough, another side of him is telling him that it’s okay - that he’ll be fine as long as he listens to the person; whoever it is.

 

It’s far too dark for Taehyung to see the person’s face clearly, but he can faintly make out the shape of his face and what he’s wearing just in case he’ll have to report him to the cops. Better to be safe than sorry, right?

 

A few moments later, he sees two cops run past the alleyway that they currently stand in, and a chill runs up and down Taehyung’s spine. They were looking for this man, weren’t they? What did do? Did he rob someone? Steal something? He hasn’t killed anyone, has he?

 

God, Taehyung hopes he hasn’t. He’d much rather prefer to go through his life knowing that a potential murderer didn’t touch him with his people killing hands, let alone use them to cover his mouth. He’d never get an ounce of sleep ever again if he did.

 

The man stays completely silent and Taehyung stares up at him, eyeing him carefully and taking note of how he stands taller than he does. His hair is buried under a black beanie, but Taehyung can still tell that it’s dyed. It’s an unnatural color - a silverish grey that can pass as a light teal in the dark lighting.

 

His lips are thick, pink and soft-looking, and Taehyung stares at them longer than he probably should, given the situation that he’s currently in. He could literally be in the hands of a serial killer, yet he’s ogling his mouth. He needs to get his priorities straight right fucking now.

 

Taehyung snaps his eyes away from the man’s lips, noticing a small tattoo on the wrist of his right hand. But before he can see what it is exactly, the man pulls away from him completely, putting a respectable distance between the two of them. It is then that Taehyung realizes that the cops were gone. Or at least they could no longer be heard.

 

The man eyes Taehyung, silently judging him (and his hideous work clothes), and Taehyung has the urge to ask him who he is or why he’s running from the police, even if he has no business asking. He deserves an answer, especially since this stranger has succeeded in scaring the shit out of him to the point where he has to pathetically squeeze his thighs together so he doesn’t piss himself. How embarrassing.

 

Taehyung doesn’t get a chance to say even so much as a word to the man before he’s backing away from him with a small yet noticeable smile, turning around and running off while leaving Taehyung to stare after him with nothing but unanswered questions and perplexity.

 

He places his hand over his chest, unable to slow his rapid heart rate as he takes deep breaths. Did that actually happen? Did a supposed criminal actually grab him to hide from the police?

 

Taehyung can’t believe it, and as he stands in the alleyway, the fear slowly fading away, he continues to ponder who that person was and what he had done. He’s anxious for some answers, and he knows that his curiosity would stay with him until he received them.

 

He smoothes his hands over his clothes to iron out the wrinkles and fixes his cap, peeking his head out of the alleyway to make sure that there were no other strange men out to drag him back into the alley. When he saw that the coast was clear, he continued to walk home, constantly checking to see if anyone was following him or if the person from the alley was around, but he was nowhere to be found.   

 

It’s both unsettling and a relief, not knowing where he had gone and why he was running, and as he makes his way to his apartment, Taehyung can’t seem to get him out of his mind. There was something about him and the way he had smiled at Taehyung that made him nearly impossible to forget.

 

Even as he passes the threshold of his apartment, the memory of him is still fresh in his brain, and all he wants to do is talk to Jimin about him but what would he say? _This guy who could’ve killed me dragged me into an alleyway and now I can’t stop thinking about him_? He’d sound like a complete idiot if he did, so instead, he refrains from speaking about it, but as always, Jimin can see right through him.

 

“You okay?” he asks from the couch, pulling his eyes away from their tiny TV to look up at Taehyung, who kicks his shoes off near the door.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long day.”

 

Jimin nods, though he can tell that Taehyung’s not saying all that’s on his mind. He doesn’t press it, and Taehyung is reminded of one of the many reasons why he appreciates Jimin so much.

 

“You wanna watch a movie? I can make some popcorn?”

 

“Nah, that’s alright. I think I’m just gonna get some sleep. Thanks, though.”

 

He drags his feet along the wooden floors, trudging over to his room and plopping down face first onto his bed, his clothes still on. He’ll definitely regret sleeping in his clothes when the morning comes, but he’s too worn out to care.

 

Within seconds, Taehyung’s out like a light, and the first image that appears behind his eyelids is the mysterious man from the alleyway.

 

➳

 

High School is and has never been something that Jungkook has enjoyed.

 

Sure, he’s made a few friends here and there, passed all of his classes, and even managed to be the top student in his entire grade, but he’s always felt like he didn’t belong in High School. And ever since his very first day, he was ready to graduate. Now that the time has finally come, he couldn’t be happier.

 

Much like everyone else in his classroom, Jungkook currently sits at the edge of his seat, impatiently waiting for the ring of the final bell that would signify the start of summer and the end of High School.

 

The anticipation makes the last few minutes feel like they’ll never end, but when the sound of the bell finally fills his ears, the entire class screams in excitement, jumping out of their seats and heading for the door.

 

With so many people packed into the hallways, it’s nearly impossible to make it out of the school. He has to squeeze through almost a thousand other students before he reaches the front doors, and even then, there are people crowding the stairs, so he has to slip in between them to reach the bottom. When he does, he sees a few of his friends and approaches them, greeting them with a bright smile.

 

Minjae, one of Jungkook’s closest friends, pulls him into a tight hug, and the others follow suit, gathering into a group hug as if to say goodbye. Jungkook chuckles, but the brief reminder that they would not see each other very often after they go to university makes his smile fade slightly.

 

He never realized that he would actually miss them after High School was over, and now that they’re separating, he regrets not spending more time with them.

 

He resists the urge to frown as he pulls away from them, promising to keep in touch with them over the summer and from then on, and they make plans to meet up before the summer ends.

 

They finally part ways after saying their last goodbyes, and Jungkook is about to start heading over to his parent's restaurant before someone beeps the horn of their car across the street.

 

Jungkook stops in his tracks, and he spots Yoongi in his 2015 Nissan Maxima with the window rolled down, a small smile on his lips. Jungkook lights up at the sight of him, looking both ways before crossing the street and rushing over to his car.  

 

“Hey, hyung. What’re you doing here?”

 

“Came to pick you up. You’re not busy, are you?”

 

“Well, I actually have to help out at my parent's restaurant today,” Jungkook says, and Yoongi gives him a questionable look. “But that can wait, right?”  


“There you go, kid. Now get in - I wanna take you somewhere.”

Jungkook grins, hopping into the passenger seat and throwing his bag into the back. He has a brief idea of where Yoongi is taking him, as they usually went to a park downtown to smoke. It’s been almost a month since the last time they did, as Jungkook’s been held up with school and Yoongi’s been busy with his music, but now that they’re both free, they can finally bond over a blunt as they’ve always done.

 

The drive to the park is rather short, and within 15 minutes, they’re already walking over to their favorite spot, which is a bench with chipped paint that’s near a pair swings and the monkey bars.

 

Besides Yoongi and Jungkook, there’s no one else in the park, making it convenient for the both of them.

 

Yoongi pulls a small joint case out of his pocket and takes one out, slipping it between his lips and lighting it up. Once it’s lit, he takes a long drag of it and holds the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds, welcoming the familiar burn of it before he exhales slowly and passes the joint to Jungkook.

 

Yoongi glances over at Jungkook as he takes a hit, and he chuckles when the poor kid coughs frantically. He still isn’t as used to the burn as Yoongi is, but he always takes it like a champ and tries a few more times, mirroring what Yoongi had done and holding the smoke in until he can’t anymore, pushing it past his lips.

 

He sighs at the rush it gives, sinking into the bench as his bones begin to relax, and Yoongi takes the joint from, taking another drag.

 

“I’m such a bad influence on you,” Yoongi mutters. “And I should feel bad about it, but you’re just so cute when you’re fucked up.”

 

Jungkook giggles, batting his eyes up at Yoongi. “Am I?”

 

Yoongi nudges Jungkook with a soft laugh. “Don’t make me take it back, kid.”

 

They pass the joint back and forth between each other, managing to finish half of it, but even by then, the high still hasn’t hit Jungkook completely, though his head has started to spin, slowing his movements ever so slightly.

 

He’s only halfway conscious of his movements when he stands up and walks over to the monkey bars, planning to climb them but frowning once he realizes that he’s far too tall and that his feet would still be on the ground as if he tried to. Instead, he hangs onto them and bends his knees, swinging himself back and forth as Yoongi watches him in amusement.

 

When his swinging becomes less entertaining, Jungkook starts kicking his legs up in an effort to hang upside down from the bars, but the weed makes it far more difficult than it should be, so he keeps trying.

 

“Jungkook-ah, maybe you shouldn’t-”

 

“Shut up, hyung, I can do it. Watch,” Jungkook insists, attempting to kick his legs up one last time to hook them over the bars but ultimately failing, losing his grip and falling right onto his back.

 

Yoongi laughs twice as hard as he normally would, doubling over as Jungkook groans in pain from the wind being quite literally knocked out of him. He struggles to roll over and get back on his feet, the pain in his spine still present, and Yoongi doesn’t stop laughing.

 

“It’s not funny,” Jungkook whines, dragging himself back over to the bench to join Yoongi, and he whacks him in his chest when he continues to laugh at his pain.

 

“What?” Yoongi breathes. “It’s not my fault. I told you not to.”

 

Jungkook wants to pout, but Yoongi’s laugh has always been contagious, and he ends up looking like an idiot as he tries to keep a straight face while he joins Yoongi in his laughter.

 

It dies down after a few moments, and with a few more puffs, Jungkook’s head is in the clouds. Somehow, Yoongi still looks perfectly fine, and Jungkook’s never understood how he could hold practically every drug so well.

 

“You’ve never gotten laid, right?” Yoongi asks suddenly and nonchalantly as if the question isn’t personal. Jungkook flushes, shaking his head sluggishly. “You ever been to a party?”

 

Besides a few birthday parties in primary school? No. Jungkook shakes his head again.

 

“Not one?”

 

“No.”

 

“Unbelievable. What kind of teenager are you?”

 

The good kind, Jungkook assumes. Or at least that’s what he tells himself so he doesn’t feel like a complete loser.

 

He’s spent most of his adolescent years studying like his life depended on it, since his parents have always told him that he needed to do well in school to succeed, and he’s always lived by their word. Because of that, he’s never had much time to go out or get wasted.

 

Yoongi takes one last drag before he throws the joint onto the ground and stomps it out with his shoe. “Clear up your non-existent schedule, loser. I’m taking you to your first party tomorrow night and I’m gonna show you what it means to live.”

 

➳

 

Within the first ten minutes, Jungkook decides that parties aren’t exactly his idea of fun. He’d much rather spend the night getting as high as a kite than being surrounded by a bunch of sweaty strangers that hardly fit into the living room.  

 

The music is far too loud and the smell of alcohol is almost nauseating. That doesn’t stop him from taking a few sips out of the cup that Yoongi had shoved into his hand the moment he walked through the front door. It tastes horrible, too strong for Jungkook’s liking, but it serves as a reason not to look at the girl that Yoongi has thrust his way.

 

He’s fairly awkward when it comes to girls, always has been, which is why he’s tried so hard to avoid them over the course of High School. Despite all of his efforts, they always end up in his path anyway, and when they do, he always closes in on himself, unsure of what to say or do.

 

Don’t get him wrong, the girl is pretty hot; she’s got big eyes and even bigger breasts that Jungkook keeps glancing down at, but he’s just not interested.

 

Jungkook swirls his cup in his hand, watching as the alcohol whooshes around in his cup until he gets bored as the girl talks her head off about things that Jungkook could care less about. She keeps touching his arm, and Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell her to cut it out, so he lets her, humming as he pretends to listen to her.

 

Looking up, he unknowingly searches for a set of eyes, spotting Yoongi across the room, grinding against some girl with horribly dyed blonde hair. He clenches his teeth and tears his eyes away from them, downing the rest of his drink. It burns on the way down, but he ignores it.

 

He can’t exactly pinpoint the sting in his chest - isn’t sure whether or not it’s because he drank the alcohol way too fast or if it’s something else. Either way, he doesn’t want to think about it, so he pushes it away before it can get the best of him.

 

“Are you even listening to me?” the girl says, and it’s then that Jungkook realizes he doesn’t even know her name. She did tell him, but he didn’t care enough to listen, let alone remember it.

 

He nods, but she raises a brow at him, not looking very convinced. “How old are you, anyway?”

 

“Eighteen.”

 

She hums, stepping impossibly closer to Jungkook and tugging on his belt, batting her lashes at him coquettishly. “You ever tried an older girl before?”

 

“N-no,” he stutters, and she smirks.

 

“How about I take you upstairs and show you what it’s like?”

 

“I, uhm,” Jungkook clears his throat. “I gotta pee. Excuse me,” he says pathetically, pushing past her in embarrassment, and she scoffs.

 

God, why’d he have to be such an idiot?  Someone was willing throwing themselves at him, and he couldn’t even last five seconds without making a fool out of himself. Can’t he do anything right?

 

He inwardly curses to himself as he locks himself in the bathroom, too humiliated to face the girl again or anyone else for that matter. Although he’s well aware that he can’t hide in the bathroom forever, he decides to make use of it for as long as he can, afraid that he’d somehow manage to further embarrass himself just by existing.

 

It’s a bad habit of his, and sometimes he wishes that he would stop being so awkward for once. If he did, maybe he’d finally be able to function around girls without slipping into this recurring mess of gawkiness.

 

Running his fingers through his hair, Jungkook sighs, taking a look at himself in the mirror and deciding that he’s just about done with this whole party ordeal.

 

For others, though, the party has just begun.

 

Going to a party tonight was definitely not on Taehyung’s to do list, but Jimin had incessantly begged him to come with him, claiming that _Jackson always threw the best parties_ and that _Taehyung needed to_ _let loose for once._ As far as Taehyung’s concerned, he doesn’t need to let loose. All he needs is some fucking sleep.

 

He’s been waking up at ass o’clock for two weeks straight, and because he has work in the morning, he really shouldn’t be out partying until the break of dawn. But Taehyung is a good best friend, and he always does what makes Jimin happy, even if it doesn’t do the same for him.

 

Since they came to the party together, Taehyung expected that they would _stay_ together, but knowing Jimin, that would be nearly impossible, so he’s not very surprised when Jimin disappears among the crowd of people within seconds of their arrival. To say he’s peeved would be a bit of an understatement, but he doesn’t bother to find Jimin, knowing that he needed to get his mind off of things, or a particular ex-boyfriend that is, and this was his way of doing just that.

 

Once they separate, Jimin makes a beeline straight for the alcohol, rushing over to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of the sweetest thing he could possibly find. Drinking strong liquor has never ended well for him, and it’s always made him sick and stopped him from having a good time much earlier than he wants to.

 

The kitchen is almost as crowded as the living room is, and Jimin has to squeeze between what seems like a thousand people before he finally, _finally,_ reaches the counter that’s covered in every drink imaginable.

 

Jimin’s quick to grab himself a cup, reaching for a bottle of UV vodka and mixing it with some fruit punch before downing it all in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he grabs a different bottle.

 

“Slow down,” says an unfamiliar voice with a chuckle, and Jimin looks over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the person, whose lips are pulled into a tight smirk as he leans against the counter coolly, a bottle of soju resting in his hand. He radiates a sense of confidence that Jimin can feel from where he stands, and he’s so intriguing that Jimin stares at him longer than he probably should. “Drink any faster and it’ll go straight to your head.”

 

Ignoring him, Jimin pours himself another drink and swallows it almost as fast as he had for the first one.

 

“Or don’t listen to me. That’s fine too,” he shrugs, taking a sip from his own bottle. He eyes Jimin with heed, watching as he frantically searched the kitchen for any of the booze he could possibly find, even resorting to rummaging through the fridge, where he found a case of beer. “So are you trying to kill yourself or…?”

 

“I’m sorry but who are you?” Jimin retorts, pulling out a bottle and closing the fridge behind him with his foot. “And why are you so concerned with my every move?” He was beginning to lose his patience with this guy, whoever he was. The last thing he needs right now is someone playing the part of his mother to stop him from drinking, which is exactly what he came for.

 

Jimin almost rolls his eyes when his smirk spreads even wider. “I’m Hoseok,” he introduces. “And you’re Jimin, right?” Before Jimin has the chance to ask him how he knows, Hoseok continues. “I’ve seen you at the dance studio that Yoongi deejay’s at.”

 

“Was I any good?”

 

“You were great. Probably the best dancer in the room,” he praises. “But I can promise you that I’m a lot better,” he challenges, almost flirtatiously, and Jimin quirks a brow at him. “Dance with me.”

 

“Doesn’t sound like you’re giving me much of a choice,” Jimin points out.

 

“That’s because I’m not,” Hoseok says with a laugh, taking the unopened bottle of beer from Jimin’s hand and placing it on the counter with his half full bottle of soju. “I’m gonna show you how to have a good time without this. Now come on.”

 

Grabbing Jimin’s wrist, Hoseok pulls Jimin into the living room and finds a spot within the crowd for the two of them, placing his hands on Jimin’s waist to bring their bodies closer together as they stand face to face. The height difference is subtle yet noticeable, and the moment Jimin looks up at Hoseok, only centimeters away from him, the air between them changes along with the rhythm of the bass that shakes the entire room.

 

He doesn’t know how to explain it, but it’s as if a switch goes off within the both of them, and within seconds, they’re gravitating towards each other, like they were meant to be molded into one.

 

Jimin isn’t exactly sure how it starts - doesn’t remember the moment he wrapped his arms around Hoseok’s neck to close the distance between them or who had started grinding against who, but he has no complaints about it. It’s almost addicting, how their bodies roll against each other with a sensual kind of synchronization, the music being their only guide, and Jimin doesn’t dare to pull his gaze away from Hoseok’s as they move back and forth, too captured by the look in his eyes and the way they sparkle.

 

Hoseok has this undeniable charm to him, one that draws Jimin in and locks him in place. No matter how much he pushes away, Hoseok is always there to pull him back, unwilling to let any distance come between the two of them.

 

Slowly, Hoseok’s hands travel lower and lower until they reach his ass, and Jimin gasps when he squeezes it and drives their hips closer together with more force, the friction causing heat to pool within his stomach.

 

“That’s it,” Hoseok encourages in Jimin’s ear. “Just let go. Come on. I’m right here.”

 

Jimin runs his fingers through Hoseok’s dark locks and slots his thigh between his, tugging on a few strands as he ruts against Hoseok, trying to keep up with the rhythm of the music.

 

With the lust between them growing rapidly, Jimin begins to wonder if Hoseok fucks the way he dances - wonders if he likes it rough or if he likes to take things slow, and the mere thought of it makes Jimin moan quietly as his cock hardens in his jeans.

 

He’s desperate to know, desperate to feel Hoseok’s hands all over him without his clothes getting in the way, and desperate to fuck the tension between them away.

 

They keep dancing, sweat beginning to gather on their foreheads from how hot it had become, and eventually, Hoseok turns Jimin around so that his hips are pressed firmly against his backside and his chest is against Jimin’s back.

 

“Is this okay?” Hoseok asks, and Jimin nods, rolling his hips in tight circles as he reaches his hand back to hold onto Hoseok’s neck, biting his lip when the latter leans closer and nips his earlobe, his hands caressing the skin underneath Jimin’s shirt.

 

When his thumbs brush over Jimin’s teats, he finally decides that he can’t take it anymore - can’t handle their close proximity and can no longer bare to control himself. If it weren’t for the crowd of people around them, Jimin already would’ve begged Hoseok to fuck him into oblivion, but Jimin is better than that. He’s classy.

 

“Take me back to your place,” Jimin rasps out as he turns his head to look back at Hoseok, adding a small _please_ at the end for good measure, and Hoseok grins at him.

 

“You want me to take you home?” he questions, grinding his hips harder, clutching his waist tighter. Jimin nods swiftly, their lips brushing against each other with how close they are. “How bad do you want me to?”

 

“So bad, Hoseok, please,” Jimin tries effortlessly, and Hoseok clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart,” he teases, and Jimin grouses in frustration, fighting the urge to whine. If there is something everyone should know about Jimin, it’s that he isn’t one for playing games. He likes to get straight to the point, so he really doesn’t appreciate that Hoseok is toying with him right now, even if it turns him on in the slightest way.

 

“I just want to hear you say it, that’s all I’m asking. Now convince me, and make it good or I’m not taking you anywhere,” Hoseok demands, and Jimin glares at him, but he still finds something so tantalizing about his forceful tone.

 

He gives into Hoseok within seconds, pressing up against him and suddenly becoming angry at the fabric separating them from each other. “I want you so bad. Want you to touch me and make me feel good.”

 

“But I’m touching you right now. Is this not enough for you?”

 

“Hoseok, _please_ ,” Jimin begs, his face turning red with arousal and embarrassment. “I’m so fucking hard and I can’t take this anymore so please, _please_ take me home and fuck me. I promise I’ll be so good for you.”

 

He really hopes that the people surrounding them are not listening to him beg so desperately for someone he just met. It’s mortifying yet sating all at the same time, and Jimin is not sure if he just discovered a new kink of his.

 

“There you go,” Hoseok smirks with satisfaction, pressing a kiss to the back of Jimin’s neck before pulling away from him completely and leaving him flustered. But not for long though, as he takes Jimin’s hand and starts leading him through the crowd just as the song changes to a much more upbeat one while Jimin follows behind him like a lost puppy - one that is suffocating in their jeans and can hardly walk straight from the ache between their legs.

 

➳

 

It’s almost one in the morning and Jimin is nowhere to be found. Taehyung has searched high and low for him but has had zero luck, and it’s starting to bother him.

 

Jimin may be an adult that is completely capable of looking after himself, but Taehyung still doesn’t appreciate him disappearing without so much as a moment’s notice. He just wants to know that Jimin’s safe, as he tends to get a little (or very) wild when he’s drunk, and that always ends in one of two ways: with regret or with confusion. Quite frankly, Taehyung is not prepared for either of the two.  

 

He figures that calling Jimin would be his best option at this point, so he does just that, pulling out his phone and presses a finger to his ear to block out the loud noises. It does absolutely nothing, and Taehyung sighs in vexation, searching for a place in the house that would be quiet enough for him to at least hear himself talk.

 

Almost every room is occupied though, and Taehyung spends around fifteen minutes opening and closing doors, apologizing to whoever it was that he had walked in on. Ultimately, he settles on the balcony near the back of the house, which also has a good amount of people, but is not as loud with the sliding glass door closed shut.

 

He attempts to call Jimin again and again, only to reach his voicemail each and every time, and eventually, Taehyung gives up, shoving his phone back into his pocket and leaning his elbows on the railing, glancing down at the people in the backyard.

 

As he watches them run around and jump into the pool, Taehyung wonders why he even agreed to come in the first place. Parties are stupid - they just leave you with bad memories and a headache, and Taehyung’s never really seen the fun in them. Next time, if Jimin asks him to come along with him, Taehyung swears that he’s going to say no.

 

The smell of cigarette smoke fills Taehyung’s nostrils and he wrinkles his nose, looking around to see where is was coming from and spotting someone on his right side blowing the smoke from his lips without a care in the world.

 

Taehyung squints at him before looking away, then looking back out of curiosity and looking away again. Something about him seems familiar to Taehyung, and he can’t exactly point out what that might be. He lets his curiosity get the best of him, looking back at the person again and eyeing him up and down.

 

The first thing he notices is that he’s well dressed, and although he probably shouldn’t be wearing a black long sleeve shirt in this weather, he somehow still manages to make it look good. The next thing he notices is his build; how strong he looks and how easily he could subjugate someone if he wanted to.

 

Taehyung’s staring, he knows he is, and he probably shouldn’t, but he can’t help it. He wants to know why he seems to recognize him. Did he know him from somewhere?

 

As if he can feel Taehyung’s eyes on him, he turns to look at the former, quirking his brow at him. “What?”

 

“Oh, uh, nothing,” Taehyung turns away in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

 

“Do you want one or something?” he asks, gesturing towards his cigarette, but Taehyung shakes his head, declining.

 

“No thanks. I don’t smoke.”

 

He shrugs, taking another drag and blowing the smoke from his nose. It is then that Taehyung spots the tattoo on his wrist, and his blood runs cold. No fucking way. It can’t be him, could it? Taehyung refuses to believe that it could be.

 

But then he looks at his hair, remembers seeing that same silverish color the other night after work, and it finally clicks. He was the one from the alley.

 

Eyeing Taehyung carefully, he taps the end of his cigarette. “You look familiar,” he says with indifference, and Taehyung freezes, wishing that he could be as calm and collected as he was.

 

“Do I?”

 

“Yeah. We must’ve ran into each other once.”

 

“Huh, have we?” Taehyung chuckles nervously. “Man, I have no idea. I mean it could’ve been me, but I don’t really know. Maybe it was one of my doppelgangers since everyone has like 7 twins or something and-”

 

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughs, briefly putting his dimples on display, and Taehyung flushes. He tends to ramble when he’s anxious.

 

“Right. I knew that.”

 

“Sure,” he grins. “Did you think I was going to kill you or something?”

 

“No? Yes? Maybe? I don’t know, why else would you drag me into an alley with the police chasing after you?”

 

“Look, I’m sorry we had to meet that way,” he says, dodging Taehyung’s question. “But if it makes you feel any better, no one died that night.”

 

“Thanks. That helps a lot, you know.”

 

Even if he hadn’t killed anyone, that still didn’t change the fact that he could be a criminal. What had he done that was bad enough to nearly get him arrested?

 

“How about we start over?” he suggests, sticking his hand out to Taehyung. “Kim Namjoon. Graffiti enthusiast and not a serial killer.”

 

Taehyung fights the urge to smile as he takes his hand, shaking it. “Kim Taehyung - also not a serial killer.”

 

They share a glance, a much friendlier one at that, and Taehyung is no longer afraid of him. Or at least he’s not _as_ afraid of him as he was before.

 

“So what are you doing here?” Namjoon asks, stamping out his cigarette.

 

“My friend dragged me here, but I’m pretty sure he left me to get some dick. That’s what he usually does, anyway.”

 

“Some friend,” Namjoon chuckles. “Do you need a ride home?”

 

“Nah, I’m okay. I’ll probably just call a cab or something.”

 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind taking you,” Namjoon insists, and by the look he gives him, Taehyung can tell that he’s not going to take no for an answer, so he accepts Namjoon’s offer.

 

Once they both decide that watching drunk people from the balcony is no longer amusing, they make their way out of the party, slipping between the crowds of people to reach the front door.

 

The front lawn is a fucking mess, and Taehyung can only image how long it’s going to take Jackson to clean it up. Not that it really mattered; he would probably throw another party next week, anyway.

 

Taehyung expects Namjoon to own a car, so he doesn’t think much when he walks towards a motorcycle that’s party near the end of the driveway. But when he picks a helmet off of it and throws it to him, Taehyung nearly passes out.

 

“That’s yours?”

 

“Yup,” Namjoon says proudly. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

 

“Yeah,” Taehyung mumbles insincerely, and Namjoon hops onto it, looking over at Taehyung expectantly.

 

“What’re you waiting for? Get on.”

 

“Sure thing. Just give me a second, will you? I’m honestly this close to shitting myself so I need some time to, you know… calm down.”

 

Namjoon chuckles. “Nothing to be afraid of. Just hold on tight and you’ll be fine.”

 

“Alright,” Taehyung takes a deep breath to slow his racing heart. “But I’m taking your word on this so if I die, don’t be surprised if I come back as a ghost and haunt you.”

 

After telling Namjoon his address, Taehyung puts his helmet on and straddles the back of the bike, wrapping his arms securely around Namjoon’s waist and flinching when he starts the engine.

 

Without even so much as a warning, Namjoon pulls back on the throttle, causing the motorcycle to accelerate at a much faster speed than Taehyung was mentally prepared for. He winces, shutting his eyes and practically hiding his face in Namjoon’s back. Taehyung really should’ve told him to go as slow as he possibly could.

 

They zip through the heavy traffic of the city, swerving back and forth between the cars, and although Taehyung is still stiff with fear, he can admit that he enjoys the feeling of the cool breeze against his skin.

 

It takes him a while, but eventually, he opens his eyes again and takes a look around, watching as the city whips past him at lightening speed, and the sight actually manages to put a smile on his face.

 

“You okay back there?” Namjoon asks, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him.

 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Taehyung nods. He tightens his grip around Namjoon, hoping that it didn’t bother him. (It doesn’t)

 

Within twenty minutes, Namjoon slows his motorcycle to a stop in front of Taehyung’s apartment, and Taehyung is so comfortable that he doesn’t want to let go of him, but he does, climbing off and handing the helmet back to Namjoon.

 

“Thanks. For the ride and all.”

 

“No problem.”

 

An awkward silence ensues, and Taehyung says the first thing that comes to mind. “You, uhm, wouldn’t happen to want to come upstairs, would you?”

 

“Not really, no.”

 

“Oh,” Taehyung frowns in disappointment. “Well, are we at least going to see each other again?”

 

“Do you want to?”

 

Taehyung plays with his fingers, nodding.

 

“Then I’ll think about it,” Namjoon says, flashing a smile at Taehyung before putting his helmet on. Without saying another word, he starts his bike and rides off.

 

“It was nice meeting you!” Taehyung calls after him pathetically, sighing when he realizes that Namjoon couldn’t hear him. He probably wouldn’t care either, to be honest.

 

Turning around, Taehyung heads up to his apartment, walking up two flights of stairs since the elevator was broken, and throwing himself onto their couch.

 

The lack of noise reminds Taehyung of Jimin’s absence, so to make sure that he was alright, Taehyung pulls out his phone and dials him again. Unsurprisingly, all he gets is his cheery voicemail, and for once, the sound of Jimin’s voice infuriates him. The least he could do was send him a message. How was Taehyung supposed to know if he was dead or alive?

 

He gives up, throwing his phone to the side and hoping that he wouldn’t wake up to the image of Jimin’s smiling face on the news, claiming that his body had been found in a ditch on the side of the road.

➳

 

Jimin’s phone vibrates on Hoseok’s nightstand, indicating an incoming call, and if he weren’t so busy bouncing up and down on his cock, he probably would’ve checked to see who it was. Probably.

 

He has his head thrown back with his lips parted with a moan as he swivels his hips to find a better angle, his hair matted to his forehead from perspiration.

 

“Don’t answer it,” Hoseok orders, using his hands to push Jimin further down onto his cock and grunting when Jimin digs his nails into his chest.

 

“Wasn’t going to,” Jimin pants. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

 

“Come’re,” he gestures for Jimin to come closer with his fingers, and Jimin does, leaning over Hoseok so that his face is buried into the crook of his neck. Hoseok wraps his arms around him, bending his knees so he could fuck up into Jimin at a faster pace, the squelch of lube and the sound of his balls slapping against Jimin’s ass filling the room.

 

The stretch is so fucking good, and it has Jimin screaming at the top of his lungs, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. “Holy shit, _fuck_ , don't stop - please don't stop, I'm so close..”

 

They’ve been going at it for almost a half hour, and all of the pent up frustration has tears brimming the corner of Jimin’s eyes, threatening to spill over.

 

“God, you feel so good. So fucking tight,” Hoseok grunts, spreading Jimin’s ass cheeks with his hands to make the slide easier.

 

Jimin can tell that Hoseok’s getting close from the way his thrusts have become sloppy and irregular, so he starts pushing back against him, deliberately clenching down on his cock as he clenches the sheets between his palms, his moans growing louder and higher in pitch.

 

“I’m gonna come. Auh _, fuck_ ,” Hoseok groans out. “Touch yourself for me.”

 

Jimin obeys, wrapping his hand around his cock and jerking himself off to the pace of Hoseok’s quick thrusts. He pumps his cock once, twice, before coming on the third with a jumble of curses and Hoseok’s name, painting his chest white as he struggles to catch his breath.

 

But Hoseok doesn’t stop, ramming his hips up into Jimin’s in an effort to find his own release. Jimin cries out in overstimulation, begging Hoseok to come, and he finally does after a few more thrusts, stilling inside of Jimin as he fills the condom with his seed.

 

His cock twitches inside of Jimin, and Jimin whines, circling his hips to milk Hoseok for all he’s worth. Hoseok grabs him by his hips to halt his movements, easing his cock out of Jimin with a moan, and Jimin rolls onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

 

“Shit,” Jimin pants in disbelief. “What’s my name again?”

 

Hoseok chuckles, standing up to throw the condom away. As he does, Jimin watches him, his eyes following him and trailing down the expanse of his back, and he smirks when he sees the red lines that he left in his wake.

 

After cleaning Jimin and himself off, Hoseok pulls his boxers back on and helps Jimin into his, climbing into the bed and pulling the covers over their bodies. He even starts to run his fingers through Jimin’s sweaty hair and Jimin almost tells him to stop, that they’re being far too intimate than he initially planned, but he doesn’t have the heart to do it.

 

Not only that, but he likes being this close to Hoseok, even if he knows he shouldn’t be. He’s gone through this enough times to know that it’s dangerous to stick around during the aftermath.

 

“Hoseok, I don’t think I should stay,” Jimin says softly.

 

“Why not?”

 

Because he refuses to let this turn into anything more than what it is. Overstaying his welcome would be his first step in the wrong direction, and the last thing Jimin needs right now is another person to worry about.  

 

But then Hoseok’s kissing his neck, soothing his tongue over the bruises he left, and Jimin can already feel himself giving in. “Stay,” he mumbles into Jimin’s neck. “Just for tonight.”

  
A part of Jimin can tell that Hoseok’s words hold little truth to them, that it certainly wouldn’t be their last night together, and he tries to fight it, he really does, but Hoseok somehow manages to draw him in and lock him in place just with the briefest touch of his lips to his skin. And that scares Jimin, yet he does nothing to push him away, sinking lower and lower into his grasp.


	2. Chapter 2

**_160615_ ** **_→ 03:41_ **

 

Considering the fact that Yoongi is the older one in this situation, he should probably be the one dragging Jungkook home after getting too wasted and not the other way around, but that isn’t exactly how their friendship works.

 

In reality, Jungkook spends most of his time taking care of Yoongi because the fucker never seemed to have a sense of control when it comes to drinking, and at this point, Jungkook is beginning to wonder who the real adult in their relationship is.

 

He can’t even count the amount of times he’s had to physically restrain Yoongi from taking another drink, or how many times he had to tell Yoongi what he had done the night before because he always seemed to forget. And sometimes, it got to the point where Jungkook actually became concerned.

 

Yoongi has never been good at handling his emotions, so when he has a problem, he always turns to alcohol instead of talking about it or actually addressing it, and that only makes things worse. He figures that the more he forgets, the less pain he’ll feel, but that doesn’t work. It never does, and Jungkook doesn’t understand why Yoongi doesn’t understand that.

 

Both Yoongi and Jungkook are aware that he needs to find a better coping mechanism, but no matter how many times Jungkook tries to help him, Yoongi always pushes him away, and that’s why they always end up back in the same position over and over.

 

With Yoongi’s arm thrown over his shoulder and his hand on Yoongi’s waist, Jungkook guides him through the sea of people, silently grateful for the way the loud music quiets down as they leave the party and how they manage to make it down the stairs without tumbling over. 

 

Yoongi is still conscious, but he’s mumbling incoherent words that Jungkook doesn’t care enough to decipher, so he ignores him, taking small steps so Yoongi could keep up as they walk over to his car when Jungkook spots it parked across the street.  

 

Jungkook places Yoongi up against the vehicle once they reach it, searching through his pockets for his car keys and unlocking the door once he finds it. He helps Yoongi into the passenger seat, putting on his seat belt before jogging over to the driver’s side, staring blankly at the car's controls. He’s driven a car only a handful of times in his entire life, so Jungkook isn’t exactly sure that this is a very good idea, but he’s determined to get Yoongi home safe, so he risks it anyway.

 

After a few minutes of poking and prodding at the car’s controls, Jungkook finally figures out how the GPS works, punching in his own address instead of Yoongi’s and starting the car. The car jerks abruptly so Jungkook slams on the breaks, and he repeats this a few times before he eventually gets used to the feeling of driving, finding the perfect speed and mimicking what he’s seen his parents do when they drive.

 

For a while, everything seems fine - Yoongi is still breathing so thankfully he’s still alive, and Jungkook hasn’t crashed the car or been pulled over yet, which is great. But when they’re almost halfway to his house, Jungkook notices Yoongi’s face looking paler than it already is, his stomach visibly heaving, and Jungkook panics.

 

“Hyung-” he warns as if that would stop him, but it’s already too late. Within the next few seconds, Yoongi is throwing up all over himself, and Jungkook retches at the smell of it, covering his nose and mouth with his shirt.

 

Yoongi groans in discomfort, using the back of his hand to wipe the saliva from his mouth and wrinkling his nose. Even when Jungkook rolls down the windows, the smell is still heavy in the car, and he hopes that it doesn’t stick to his clothes. That would be disgusting.

 

What seems like the longest car ride of his life finally ends after 15 minutes, and Jungkook parks crookedly in front of his house, too worried about Yoongi to care. Although Yoongi still has trouble walking on his own, Jungkook no longer wants to help him with the fear of getting his vomit on his clothes, but he decides to be a good friend and forgets about it, leading him to his doorstep and walking past the threshold.

 

It couldn’t be a better time for his parents to be out of town because if they were to see Yoongi like this, they would make Jungkook vow to never see him again, and Jungkook wouldn’t be able to handle that. Yoongi is the closest friend he’s ever had in his entire life, and sometimes he would even go as far to call him a brother that he always wanted but never had.

 

He goes up the stairs one foot at a time, waiting for Yoongi to join him on one before taking another step, and once they make it to the top, Jungkook walks down the hallway and to his bedroom.

 

He lets Yoongi sit on the edge of his bed but doesn’t let him lay down, telling him to lift his arms up so he could take off his dirty clothes first. Yoongi does, and Jungkook pulls it over his head, throwing it to the side. Then he takes off Yoongi’s shoes so he could remove his jeans, sliding them off one leg at a time and fetching a pair of his sweatpants that Yoongi could wear.

 

Jungkook helps him into them, and Yoongi smiles at him lazily, his eyes heavy. “S’good to me, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi slurs, his words jumbled together. “Always so good to me.”

 

Jungkook looks up at him, takes in the bags under his eyes, his bare chest, and the way his sweatpants fall off of his narrow hips.  He bites his bottom lip, uncertain as to why there’s this dull ache in his chest.

 

He watches as Yoongi falls back onto the bed, his eyes fluttering closed as he continues to mumble words that Jungkook cannot understand. Knowing that Yoongi would wake up feeling like shit, Jungkook runs down to the kitchen to grab a cup of water and some Advil, and by the time he comes back to place it on his nightstand, Yoongi is knocked out cold.

 

He stares at him quietly, watching as his chest rises and falls with every breath and sighing in relief knowing that he’s still alive. For a moment, Jungkook debates on whether or not he should sleep in the bed with him or just sleep on the couch, but he settles on crawling beside Yoongi since it was his bed after all. He pulls the covers over both of their bodies and turns onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and counting each and every star that he had stuck on his ceiling as a kid.

 

They were not nearly as bright as they had been when he was younger, but they still helped him fall asleep, as he found himself drifting off into slumber no more than a few moments later, with Yoongi slowly inching closer to him by his side.

 

➳

 

Sunlight seeps in through the window, hitting Jimin’s face and causing him to stir in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open. It takes a few moments for him to realize that he’s not in his room because his room doesn’t _have_ casement windows, and it takes him even longer to realize that someone is pressed up against him, their arm draped over his waist.

 

He can feel their steady breath against the back of his neck, and for a moment he almost panics, but then all of his memories come flooding back to him all at once, and he suddenly remembers what exactly had happened. He went home with Hoseok last night, and instead of leaving like he should have, he stayed over.

 

Jimin sighs, reaching over to pick his phone off of the nightstand, careful not to wake Hoseok up. Before he can even unlock it, he’s met with a screen full of missed calls and messages, most of which came from Taehyung. He’s not surprised in the slightest, considering that he had left without telling him where he was going.

 

Jimin is a shitty friend.

 

Among the flurry of Taehyung’s messages, however, are some from his dance partner that were received only a few minutes ago. Scrunching his eyebrows in confusion, Jimin unlocks his phone and reads the messages that she left.

 

**|10:08|**

**Eunji:** _jimin where tf are you??_

**|10:17|**

**Eunji:** _practice started like 15 mins ago.. are you not coming?_

**|10:20|**

**Eunji:** _hellloooo_

**|10:28|**

**Eunji:** _you honestly couldn’t have chosen a worse day to ditch. the pd is coming today and he wants to do a run through of the show_

**|10:29|**

**Eunji:** _so if you don’t show up, i will literally kill you_

 

“Shit,” Jimin curses, scrambling out of the bed and tumbling to the floor. He almost takes Hoseok with him but Hoseok catches himself as he jolts awake, his eyes wide in bewilderment before they land on Jimin, who rushes to step into his boxers, almost falling over in the process.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Hoseok grouses tiredly, rubbing his eyes as he sits up. He watches in amusement as Jimin picks his jeans up from off the floor and jumps up and down to put them on.

 

“What does it look like?” he shoots back, pulling up his zipper and buttoning his jeans. “I’m getting dressed.” He frantically looks around for the rest of his clothes, dropping to his knees to glance under the bed but finding nothing. “Where the _fuck_ is my shirt?”

 

“In the hallway,” Hoseok responds, getting out of bed and walking over to the kitchen without having the decency to put on any clothes. Unbelievable. “What are you rushing for, anyway?”

 

“I was supposed to be at dance practice a half hour ago because the pd is coming to run through our show which is in less than a month and my dance partner is pissed at me for being late - why is my shirt fucking _ripped_!” Jimin shrieks, running his fingers through his hair - a nervous tick of his.

 

“Oh. About that,” Hoseok mumbles through a mouth full of an apple, chewing down on it obnoxiously, “I might’ve torn it a little bit last night? By accident, though. It was a heat of the moment kind of thing, you know?”

 

“Thanks. What am I supposed to do now, huh? Go shirtless? I’ll look like a fucking idiot.”

 

“Calm down. Just borrow one of mine,” Hoseok says nonchalantly. “I don’t have to be at the studio until 12 so I’ll drop you off, alright? Does that make you feel any better, princess?” he smirks, taking another bite out of his apple, and Jimin rolls his eyes.  

 

It takes him nearly five minutes to find both sides of his shoes, and once he finally puts them on, Jimin starts rummaging through Hoseok’s drawers to find a shirt that would fit, only to find that they all hang loosely off of his shoulders. Too irritated to care, Jimin settles with one of his black t-shirts anyway, throwing it on without even taking a look in the mirror before grabbing the rest of his stuff and waiting for Hoseok by the door.

 

Hoseok seems to be taking his sweet time, though, so Jimin yells for him to hurry up as he taps his foot impatiently, checking his phone to see that it’s almost 11 o’clock.

 

“Don’t sass me. I’m doing you a favor, am I not?” Hoseok points out, picking his car keys up from the foyer table near the end of the hall. “Now come on,” he says, patting Jimin on his ass. “We don’t want you missing your dance practice, do we?”

  


Aside from the soft sound of music coming from Hoseok’s radio, the car ride is almost entirely silent, and Jimin is grateful for that. It’s not like there’s much for him to say, anyway, so he would much rather stay silent than start up a conversation with a literal stranger - aside from the fact that he fucked him last night and is currently sitting in the passenger seat of his car.

 

Taehyung is going to be so disappointed in him when he finds out.  

 

“This is it, right?” Hoseok asks, pointing to a building on the side of the street as he slows to a stop in front of it.

 

“Yeah,” Jimin nods. “Thanks. For the ride and all.”

 

“No problem. You can ride me anytime,” Hoseok winks, and Jimin scoffs, unbuckling his seat belt to get out of the car but Hoseok grabs him by his wrist before he can get too far. “Wait, no. I’m joking. Kind of.”

 

“Hoseok, I really have to go. I’m already an hour late, and I don’t have time for this-”

 

“Before you do,” Hoseok interrupts, “you wouldn’t mind if I got your number, would you?”

 

“Are you serious-”

 

“Look, I don’t know about you, but I had a really good time last night. It was amazing and I’d really like to see you again, even if that doesn’t mean fucking. Though I wouldn’t mind it if you don’t,” he confesses, and Jimin purses his lips in contemplation.

 

He _did_ have a great time last night, and if he didn’t have to leave so soon, he probably would’ve stayed with him, if he were to be honest with himself.

 

Sighing, Jimin gives Hoseok his phone before putting his hand out for Hoseok to put his phone into. Hoseok practically beams at him, taking his phone out of his back pocket and handing it to Jimin. He creates a new contact and puts his number underneath it just as Hoseok does the same, and they return their phones back to each other once they’re both done.

 

“One last thing,” Hoseok says, and before Jimin can retaliate, Hoseok is pulling Jimin in by his neck, pressing a soft but firm kiss on his lips. It only lasts for a few seconds, but it’s enough for Jimin to feel dizzy by the time he pulls away, and he’s almost completely blinded by how bright Hoseok’s smile is. Why hadn’t he noticed that until now? “See you around?”

 

Jimin nods. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

 

He gets out of the car and rushes over to the studio, running to the third floor and tripping a few times on the way up. Jogging over to his locker, he puts in his combination number, thanking himself for leaving some spare shorts in his locker from practice last week because he would’ve been screwed if he hadn’t.

 

After he changes into his clothes, he bolts to the dance studio, busting through the door and bending over as he tries to catch his breath from running up three flights of stairs.

 

“I’m here! Sorry I’m late!” Jimin announces as he goes over to Eunji to drown her with apologies, but as he does, he notices that some of the other dancers are staring at him relentlessly, and he begins to wonder why. Did he have something on his face?

 

The dancers in the middle of the floor go back to doing their routine as Jimin approaches Eunji, who is sitting on the floor near the back of the room, adjusting her lyrical shoes.

 

“Eunji, I’m so so sorry, I swear I can explain -”

 

“No need to. Looks like you had a great time last night, so there isn’t much for you to explain to me, anyway,” Eunji dismisses, and Jimin looks at her with confusion. She scoffs. “Look, I’m not an idiot, so stop treating me like one.”

 

“I’m not. I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Have you taken a look in the mirror lately? Because you really should,” she urges, gesturing to his neck. “Next time, cover those up, will you?”

 

Blood rushes to Jimin’s face as he flushes in embarrassment, pathetically using his hand to hide the hickey’s covering his neck.

 

“Just start stretching. Our part is in a few minutes and we don’t need you taking up any more time than you already have,” Eunji says, walking away from him. Jimin frowns and wonders if last night was really worth it.

 

➳

 

Yoongi doesn’t wake up until almost one in the afternoon, and before Jungkook can even ask him if he’s doing okay, he gets up and runs over to his bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He can hear him heaving violently, and he almost feels bad for Yoongi, but he’s used to it by now. This happens way too often for Jungkook to react the same way anymore.

 

Once Yoongi’s coughing dies down and after he hears the sound of the toilet flushing, Jungkook takes the water and Advil with him to the bathroom, opening the door to see Yoongi laying his head against the closed lid. His face is pale and there are bags under his eyes, but Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it. He just hands him the pill and the cup like he usually does.

 

Yoongi mumbles a quick ‘thank you’ before washing it down, handing the cup back to Jungkook and managing to stand up despite being dizzy. He glances at himself in the mirror for a second but doesn’t dwell on his appearance, turning on the faucet and cupping his hands underneath the water so he could wash his face.

 

“Aren’t you tired of this, hyung?” Jungkook asks suddenly, and Yoongi turns to look at him, water running down his face and sticking to the ends of his black hair.

 

“Tired of what?”

 

“ _This_ ,” Jungkook gestures to him. “Getting drunk almost every night and being hungover the next morning? Doesn’t that get tiring?”

 

Yoongi blinks at him without another word, turning back to the sink and splashing more water on his face.

 

“And aren’t you at least worried about your health? The doctor keeps warning you about liver disease because you drink too much, so maybe you should cut back-”

 

“I need a cigarette,” Yoongi cuts him off. “Can you get me one?”

 

“So you’re just going to ignore me?”

 

“Fine. I’ll get it myself,” he grumbles, shoving past Jungkook and walking back to the bedroom. Instead of being in the pocket of his jeans, his pack is sitting on Jungkook’s dresser along with his lighter since he had thrown his clothes into the washer.

 

He sits on the edge of his bed and places a cigarette between his lips, but Jungkook pulls it out of his mouth before he can light it up.

 

“What the _fuck_ , kid?”

 

“Can you listen to me for once in your fucking life?” Jungkook shouts. “I’m actually worried about you and you keep ignoring me.”

 

“And just who do you think you’re talking to? You should show me some respect.”

 

“I will when you start acting like you deserve it! You always tell me that _you’re not a kid_ and that _you can take care of yourself_ but look at you!”

 

Yoongi glares at him but Jungkook continues. “If you don’t stop this, you’re going to drink yourself to death, hyung. Why is it so wrong for me to care about your well being?”

 

Jungkook sighs when Yoongi doesn’t say anything. “Can you at least try to cut back? For me? You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother, and I can’t lose you.”

 

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

 

Jungkook nods, so Yoongi agrees.

 

“Alright. I’ll try. Now give it back,” Yoongi says, reaching for the cigarette, but Jungkook lifts his hand up so he can’t reach it.

 

“No smoking in my room.”

 

“Since when? I smoked in here last week.”

 

“Yeah, and I’ve been breathing in the smell of cancer ever since. If you wanna smoke, go outside.”

 

Yoongi rolls his eyes and stands up, plucking it from Jungkook’s fingers and placing it back between his lips. “You’re insatiable,” he mumbles around the cigarette, lighting it up in his room anyway. Even if Jungkook hates when Yoongi smokes cigarettes, he still finds the sight somehow intriguing - except when he’s blowing the smoke right into his face just to make him mad.

 

“I really hate you,” Jungkook jokes with a smile, fanning the smoke away, and Yoongi laughs, his eyes crinkling.

 

“I love you too, kid.”

 

➳

 

By half past six, Jimin finally returns to their apartment, smelling like death from practice and looking like absolute trash from the night before, but he was way too drained of energy to care about his appearance anymore.

 

“Oh hey asshole,” Taehyung greets from the kitchen. “Thanks for leaving me last night. Greatly appreciated.”

 

He takes a bite out of a slice of pizza, watching as Jimin takes off his shoes and trudges over to the kitchen, opening the box of pizza and eating a cold slice without even warming it up. Jimin still hums at the taste of it.

 

“I was beginning to think you were dead, you know. Where did you go? And what attacked your neck?”

 

“I went back to Hoseok’s place,” Jimin answers, and Taehyung raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Hoseok? Who’s that?”

 

“This guy I met at the party last night.”

 

“Did you fuck him?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Was he a top or bottom?”

 

“Top. All the way.”

 

“And how was it? From a scale of not worth it to 10/10 would fuck again?”

 

“10/10 would fuck again and then some,” Jimin sighs, taking another bite and sighing at the memory of last night. His ass is still sore, but that sure wouldn’t stop him from calling Hoseok up and asking for a round two. It was that mind blowing.

 

“God damn. Was it really that great?”

 

“It was amazing, Tae. So amazing that it’s stored in my spank bank and I might pop a boner just thinking about it.”

 

“And that’s where this conversation ends,” Taehyung laughs. “Did you at least get his number?” Jimin nods. “Why don’t you text him or something? Let him know you’re still interested?” he asks, opening the fridge to find something to drink.

 

“It’s too soon. If I text him now, he’ll think I’m desperate.”

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

“Shut up, Tae. He doesn’t need to know that. I’ll just wait for him to text me first.”

 

“And if he doesn’t?”

 

“Then I’ll do it. But I’m sure he will. Trust me.”

 

He doesn’t.

 

Two days go by, then three, and Hoseok still doesn’t text Jimin. He’s beginning to think that Hoseok had somehow forgotten about him, but that thought doesn’t sit very well with him, especially since Hoseok has been on his mind ever since that night.

 

He wants to talk to him more than anything, wants so badly to see him again, but he doesn’t want to hurt his pride by being the first one to initiate anything. He’s probably just acting like an idiot - probably seems like a teenager that has no idea how relationships work, but he just doesn’t want to see eager. He doesn’t want to make the same mistake he did before - getting too invested in a relationship that the other hardly cares about.

 

Maybe he’s overthinking it. Or maybe Hoseok is thinking the same thing, simply waiting for Jimin to make the first move, but they can play this game for only so long. So Jimin decides to do it first.

 

**|21:59|**

**Jimin:** _Hey_

 

Hoseok responds only a few seconds later.

 

**|21:59|**

**Hoseok:** _Took you long enough_

  
And some for some unknown reason, his simple response puts a smile on Jimin’s face. 


End file.
